Of Hills and Cable Television
by Trivial Pursuit
Summary: Misadventures in diners, hometown tourism, blood loss, figurative designated driving, broadcast standards, and entirely too much dancing.
1. Acme Diner, Brooklyn, New York City

He's sitting in the corner booth, the one that everyone in the goddamn diner knows is _hers_, talking to the owner of the diner, with a sketchpad with a half complete drawing abandon by his elbow and an elderly woman named Lulu, who's father, Mr Capek, had owned the diner when Maria's grandparents first moved into the neighbourhood in the thirties. Lulu's laughing at something he said, tears of mirth running down her aged face. It's odd to see him out of uniform and it takes her several seconds to realise that it is, in fact, him.

Besides the fact that he's sitting in her booth, the booth Lulu'd let her sleep in when she got into fights with her parens and ran out of the apartment, the booth she'd had her first kiss in, the booth she'd crashed in after prom when she was too drunk to go home, the booth that she'd scratched her initials on the jukebox that sat on the end of the table. It was _her_ fucking booth and Steve Rogers had no right to be there.

'Maria!' Lulu's hailing her to come over now and Maria does so, even if she is slightly disgruntled.

'Lulu, Rogers.' Maria's being a bitch, she knows that, but she can't seem to help it. Acme is her turf and can't she have on little thing not get sullied by the goddamn Avengers?

'Oh, you two are acquainted already?' Here Maria, and evidently he, flounders for a second.'Why didn't you tell me you work with the Avengers Maria?' Lulu's tone is jokingly accusatory but Maria cringes.

'Work protocols.' Maria eventually decides. It's the truth, the easiest of lies really.

'Another float, Hon? How about something for you Maria?' Maria nods and Lulu signals a waitress that Maria knows is her granddaughter. 'Lola, get Maria her usual.' Maria sees Steve's forehead crinkle slightly, as if confused by the idea that she has a usual.

'So, how do you know Lulu?' Maria asks. The woman herself has bustled off to go deal with some other regular so it's just Maria and Steve sitting stiffly across the table from each other.

'My mother. Mr Capek used to give her work when we were short on money, Lulu and I grew up together.' This makes Maria feel guilty for being a bitch, knowing that, no matter his monetary station now, his mother once had to work three or four jobs just to feed them.

'Oh.'

'It wasn't really that bad. People died and lots of the time we didn't have enough food to eat, but I really learned to appreciate what I have.' And there he goes again, making her feel guilty for her white, middle-class, 1980s upbringing.

'That's nice, I guess.' She knows it's not enough. In no way is 'That's nice, I guess' good enough when sympathizing with someone who grew up in one of the world's greatest economic disasters. But really, what else can she say? Yeah, she knows she can defiantly say more without even cracking her bitchy, hard-ass exterior, but she doesn't.

They sit at the booth of the diner, Maria eating her fries and hamburger, Rogers with his sketchpad. They sit like this for hours. He leaves before her, the crumpled remnants of a piece of sketching paper lying on the table. She grabs it, curious, and smoothes it out on the table. It's a sketch of her, which is weird on so many levels. She's twirling a fry, the tip dipped in ketchup, between her fingers as she stares pensively out the window (Pensive, hah, she was trying to decide if she still had some of the meatloaf her mother sent over in her fridge or if she'd have to go shopping.) He's made her look beautiful, airbrushed her like a supermodel in one of those magazines her niece reads. She's _gorgeous_, and for one little second she wonders what was going through his head when he drew it.

Whatever, he's just an Avenger.


	2. Times Square, Manhattan, New York City

**Times Square, Manhattan, New York**

It's the middle of Times Square. The mess of the battle with the Chitauri has been cleaned up and the tourists have returned. It's a sunny day when Maria sees a blond head rising above the hoards of tourists.

'Captain Rogers?' She winces as soon as she calls out, but like most things, once its out their you can't take it back.

'Agent Hill, how are you doing on this fine morning?' He's rocking forward on the balls of his feet and she can tell he's nervous. _She_ makes him nervous. It brings her a strange sort of glee.

'I'm fine, and you, Rogers?' The sun is shining, she is without work or familial obligations for the near future, and she makes Captain America nervous. Maria's decided to put on her nice face today. 'What are you doing here?'

'Do you know what Times Square was called when I was a child? The Tenderloin. It was the place mothers told their children not to go, it was riddled with crime, corruption, and other distasteful things. And now look at it,' Maria looks around, really looks in a way she hasn't looked at this place since she was a young girl, 'You know, someone told me 300,000 people go through Times Square every day. When I was young most people wouldn't come within a few blocks of the place. But know it's one of the world's largest tourist attractions. It just goes to show you.' He smiles and Maria is struck by how young he is.

'I guess. The city just did a big clean-up of the area about a decade ago, so this whole tourist thing is pretty new.' He smiles, motioning forward slightly and they proceed down the street, not talking.

It's nice, Maria decides, leisurely walking with someone who seems to have no expectations of anything at all from her.


	3. Somewhere in the Amazon Rainforest

Today, some moronic alien species decided to try and take over the world via the Amazon Rainforest. And it just had to be flood season when they were doing it. And obviously the Quinjet had to crash so they had no way of speedily getting home. And why wouldn't the Amazon be the one goddamn place on the whole freaking plant where SHIELD couldn't just barge in and rescue them, they had to follow procedure for once in their lives. And obviously since this army was bigger than the Chitauri Fury thought his precious Avengers were going to need help. And of course 'help' meant 'Maria'. And of course this all had to happen on Maria's one day off in three years.

So here Maria was, up to her knees in muddy water with that bastard Stark floating just above the water in his goddamn waterproof suit nattering about schwarma. Romanoff was sitting on the Hulk's shoulder, gently stroking his hair, the Hulk himself sitting in the 'Y' of a tree across from Barton, who was perched on a branch several hundred meters up. Thor was pacing back and forth, mumbling about fears of the incredibly pregnant Jane going into labour without him there.

And there was Steve. Wonderful Steve, who had thoughtfully brought everyone a box of wet wipes and clean underwear and socks. Maria nearly burst into tears when he handed her the package with her name on it with a reassuring little smile that promised he'd be back once she'd pulled herself together a bit. It was raining like Hurricane Hazel, it was muddier than Belgium in 1915, and they had fewer supplies than a trans-Atlantic slave trade vessel. She'd never been happier to see one person in her whole life. Therefore, what she says next is obviously born out of a combination of fatigue, gratitude, clean underwear (Because nobody likes to sit around in the middle of the night in the Amazon forest in wet underwear and a neoprene suit.), and slight blood loss.

'Captain Rogers, I think I might love you.' She immediately claps her hands over her mouth, unable to stop giggling as he flounders for what to say.

'Uh, thank you ma'am.' She pats him on the cheek because his cheeks are just so goddamn pattable and not for any other reason and collapse into his arms.

She later learns it was more than _slight_ blood loss (Who knew getting stabbed in the leg would cause so much harm?) and that, according to Tony, who is a bigger gossip than Maria's Nonna, held her in his arms as he sat on a tree branch for ten hours because he was afraid she'd fall off, carried her into Medical himself, and then sat with her until he fell asleep and the doctors carted him off to his own bed.

Huh.


	4. Stark Tower, Manhattan, New York

**Stark Tower, New York**

It's a celebration of something-or-other, Maria's not totally sure what. Thus far, as far as she can tell it's basically an excuse for all of the Avengers and Darcy to get really, really plastered. Pepper had invited her for damage control and so here Maria was, sitting in the corner of the living room of Stark Tower watching as the Avengers consumed Stark's liquor cabinet, who's contents were probably worth one that one year of Maria's salary with hazard and overtime pay.

Darcy and Thor were going shot for shot (Thor actually seemed much drunker than Darcy, which was a feat unto itself.) while Barton and Stark were placing bets on something (Maria was actually pretty sure she didn't want to know what.). Pepper and Dr Foster were sitting in the corner, neither of them drinking swapping pregnancy and baby tips. Banner and Romanoff were off to one side, swaying gently to the music playing over the speakers, which must some how have been hijacked as there was no way Stark would listen to this at one of his parties if he had any say in the matter.

_I wasn't lookin' but somehow you found me__  
It tried to hide from your love light  
But like heaven above me  
The spy who loved me  
Is keepin' all my secrets safe tonight._

Steve was standing off in the opposite corner looking equally awkward. She pushes down the completely confusing feelings that have been slowly growing inside her like a mould since the Day of Hell in the Amazon.

_ Oh, and nobody does it better_

_ Makes me feel sad for the rest  
Nobody does it half as good as you  
Baby, baby, darlin', you're the best_

Screw it, Maria decides, they're both adults, more importantly, she's an adult who has grown-up feelings and it's perfectly acceptable for her to act on song that's playing fades away and Maria walks purposefully over to Steve.

_Well you know that I love to live with you,_

_ But you make me forget so very much.  
I forget to pray for the angels  
And then the angels forget to pray for us._

'Do you want to dance?'  
'I'm not sure I know how.'  
'Why not? My grandmother made sure all of my uncles, aunts, and cousins could dance before setting them loose on society.'

'I guess I never found the right partner. Well, that's not true, I found Peggy, but we never did dance.' Well fuck, Maria though, she was going to have to compete with the sainted memory of a ninety-something geriatric. Which is a completely ridiculous though, since Maria wasn't attracted to him at all, obviously.  
'I guess I better learn at some point though. Would you mind teaching me?' Internally, Maria cheered.  
'Sure.' She grabbed his hand and pulled him into a corner of the room, 'Okay, put your right hand on my hip.' After some deliberation Steve settled his hand on the curve of her waist in a way that made her cringe at the amateurgroping of the boys she danced with when she was a teenager.

_Your letters they all say that you're beside me now._

___ Then why do I feel alone?  
I'm standing on a ledge and your fine spider web  
Is fastening my ankle to a stone._

Now so long, Marianne, it's time that we began

_ To laugh and cry and cry and laugh about it all again._

_For now I need your hidden love.  
I'm cold as a new razor blade.  
You left when I told you I was curious,  
I never said that I was brave._

They sway back and forth, not even bothering with footwork and Maria thinks this might be the difference that her mother talked about between dancing and Dancing. And she wants to see where this goes, what will happen next, but she knows that will never happen because she can run into battle with the best of them but she'll never be able to ask a simple question.

After the song is over, by some mutual unspoken decision, they go over to the corner and sit down just as Thor threw Mjölnir threw a window. Sometimes, it was hard being the good guys, the responsible ones, in a group of self-destructive superbeings. But they'd take what they can get.


	5. Stark Tower, Manhattan, New York City

After his death Maria was handed Coulson's job with one of Fury's typical, do-this-or-else glare. It need not be said that none of the Avengers were happy that Maria was taking over their beloved 'Son of Coul's responsibilities and frankly, Maria wasn't too please either. But, Maria decided, she could deal with it so long as she didn't have to deal with all the Avengers' personal shit. In hindsight, this was foolhardy on her part; at least three-quarters of Coulson's job was putting out the fires the Avengers (i.e. Tony Stark) lit Just Because They Could.

So here Maria was, on her _birthday_, standing behind a podium after the Army suddenly and inconveniently decided to kick up a massive hissy fit on how 'The entity known as the Hulk was the property of the United States Armed Forces that the agency known as S.H.I.E.L.D. is illegally withholding '. If Maria wasn't so goddamn cranky about the whole thing she might reflect that it was rather sinister and alarming, the idea that in the so-called 'Land of the Free' a major government agency believed they owned someone. But then, those in glass houses and all that.

Now, Maria's fully willing to admit that at the time she was not in the best of moods, so when some shithead reporter asked if S.H.I.E.L.D. intended to hand over the Hulk to the Army she may have said something along the lines of 'No way in Hell or Earth' and 'Over my dead body'. And of course, some fucking moron decided that she must be serious about the whole thing and not indulging in the age-old tradition of hyperbole.

Which led to Maria cooped up in Avenger's Tower being guarded by Steve Rogers and Natasha Romanoff, who was apparently expressing her gratitude for Maria's little act of stupidity with knives, armour-piercing bullets, and a truly shocking amount of body armour. Steve's motivations were a little cloudier but Maria was far more concerned about the fact that the Black Widow was camping out on her borrowed couch armed with enough weapons to set up a rather large army for life and seems to have no intention of leaving in the near future.

In an effort to escape, Maria had holed up in what seemed to be a living room with a massive couch and a television that might actually be a projector (Maria wasn't totally sure and was feeling way to lazy to bother finding out).

'JARVIS?' Maria asked tentatively.

'Yes Miss?' The AI's cool voice materialized around her.

'You wouldn't happen to have _Band of Brothers_, would you?'

'We do. Which episode would you like to start at?'

'The beginning is always the best place to start.' Maria gets through the first episode and is starting up the second one when Tony Stark ambles in, baby - which one Maria's not totally sure - in one hand - well, really the baby is cradled in his arm and he holds a tablet in the hand - and uses the other hand to prod away at whatever's on the screen. He looks up when something explodes on-screen.

'_Band of Brothers_? I love this series, it's brilliant.' He plops down on the other end of the couch, tossing the tablet to one side and absentmindedly poking his finger at the baby, who reaches out to grab it with both hands. The episode progresses and at some point Pepper and the second baby curl up next to Tony and Dr Banner sits down in the big armchair. Agent Romanoff slinks in and slides into Dr Banner's lap by the fourth, curling and coiling around the man in a way Maria was sure most would deem indecent but that seems strangely innocent.

By the fifth episode Maria can see Steve standing in the doorway, wincing at the violence on-screen.

'Is this what they show nowadays? It seems awfully realistic.' A building crumbles on-screen and Steve turns and what Maria would almost describe as _runs_ if she thought Captain America would run from a TV show. Nevertheless, no matter how he does it, Steve retreats, and, for some incomprehensible reason, Maria follows. She finds him hunched over with his head between his knees three hallways away, breathing in sharp gasps.

'Captain? Are you okay?' She asks, tentatively putting her hand on his shoulder.

'France was like nothing you've ever seen. There was mud and filth like you can't even begin to comprehend. It was Hell on Earth.'

Maria doesn't understand. She can't ever understand. She can imagine and she can extrapolate, but her experiences can never compare with that kind of bloodshed.

'I saw pictures. I mean, I asked Natasha why the war ended and she showed me all these pictures, and it was horrible, and I can't help but wonder if that single explosion corrupted and invalidated the entire point of what we fought for. It was destruction in its purest form and it was terrible. Howard worked on that. Tony told me that Howard said they were only supposed to drop one, that it was only supposed to be a one-time thing. How can anyone justify the murder of thousands on innocent people?'

They sink to the ground and Maria wraps her arms around Steve as his body shakes with sobs.


	6. Central Park, Manhattan, New York City

Maria's sitting on a bench in Central Park across from the _Alice's Adventures in Wonderland_ statue, pondering her – pondering _Steve_. Steve, who isn't just Captain or Rogers, but isn't Sweetie or Honey, he isn't even Capsicle or O Captain, My Captain, he's just _Steve_.

He's normal, really normal. Normal in a way that none of the other Avengers are. And that scares the shit out of Maria because she talks to him like he's a normal human being and he's not. He's an Avenger, one of the assholes that destroyed her grandmother's restaurant without a second though and who are currently making her life a living, breathing, fiery hell. And even besides all that he's _Captain America_ and she's just another foot soldier from Brooklyn, she's not even supposed to know he exists. He's not supposed to know which million-year-old diner she's talking about when she inadvertently mentions it in conversation, he's not supposed to be able to sit on the couch looking like the guy she'd bring home to her dad ('_Don't go there Maria!_') watching baseball and cheering on the Yankees, he's not supposed to remember her sandwich preference after one lunch run together, he's not supposed to draw, watch television, have a life outside all this, because he's _Captain America_.  
But then she reminds herself he's not Captain America, not really. He's Steve Rogers from Brooklyn, who lived with his mom and is really good at drawing.

_Steve_, she thinks, _it's a good name_.


	7. Brooklyn, New York City

Luisa Gigli was born in Italy in 1920. She'd gotten married by the time she was eighteen to an American soldier and moved to America never to see her family again. Then, after her husband got shipped off to the Pacific, she raised three children by herself all the while holding down two jobs as a waitress and assembling bombs in a munitions factory. Then her husband came back and she had four more kids. She had instilled in each of her children a Catholic fear of god that was only rivalled by their fear of her. Needless to say, Nonna was one tough cookie. She expected Maria and all twenty-nine of her cousins to get jobs, be successful, get married, and make her a great-grandmother before she dies. Fifteen of the cousins had fulfilled this duty and Maria was next on the chopping block.

Which was why, when Maria sat wedged between her cousin Donna's son Antony and her oldest sister Luisa, Nonna asked the dreaded Question.

'Maria, when are you going to bring a boy to dinner?' Nonna had been asking the Question every Sunday dinner since she was fourteen. Maria had tried bringing home a boy just to shut Nonna up (Really, he was a lovely boy named Felix who was quite sympathetic and _quite_ gay. His husband is a lovely man and Maria was a groomsmaid at their wedding.), but instead was asked about him every dinner after for two years. In the Hill family, you didn't even think about taking someone to meet Nonna unless there was a diamond ring on your finger. Maria did not have a ring on her finger, and, being almost thirty, had almost been given up as a lost cause.

Normally, Maria brushes off the question by talking about how busy, yet for some inexplicable reason she finds herself opening her mouth and words that have nothing to do with annual quota and rushed deadlines coming out.

'Well, there's someone, but we'll have to wait and see if what happens.' This immediately coaxes her siblings and their children into a round of catcalling that's almost immediately silenced by a stare from her grandmother.

'Maria will bring this boy around when she is ready.' Maria smiles, thankful that her grandmother is on her side just this once–

'But for heaven's sake girl, I'm not getting any younger and I want to beat Marjorie Phillips, she already has twenty-five great-grandchildren and I only have seventeen.' Well, that was nice while it lasted.


	8. St Bartholomew's Church, Brooklyn

**Author's Note: It is important to note that I am not remotely religious. The information in this story comes from my three primary religious sources (my parents, Father Ted, and The Vicar of Dibley; none of which can be even remotely construed at theological authorities) and some lazy googling. I am happy for feedback to make my stories more accurate and am currently open to receiving information on any religion appearing in my stories (I will still exercise my discretion as a writer). So when you read this I do not mean to offend anyone. I am thereby disclaimed.**

Maria wasn't totally sure why she was sitting in the penultimate pew in St Bartholomew's wearing a nice black dress with blue heels with Steve Rogers on a Sunday listening to a round, cheerful-looking, black woman she presumed was the priest or whatever it was they called them in the Episcopal church. Maria's knees did a little '_hip-hip-hooray!_' once they realised that there wouldn't be so much goddamned kneeling involved.

Maria was studiously ignoring the fact that if her grandmother ever found out that Maria had set foot in an Episcopalian church she was dead meat. Maria would be probably better off if she decided to become Jewish. It was funny, she thought, as a kid being forced to go to Sunday services she'd always hated church, hated the oppressive nature of her family's stares each time she shifted and the ancient wooden pew let out a creak that the whole church could hear. But she didn't feel uncomfortable – well, that's not true, she was practically twitching waiting for one of the flock to stand up and yell '_Bead rattler_' or '_Fish eater_' and point her out for the Catholic she is trying so desperately not to be – but when Steve covers the hand that's rolling the beads of the rosary she had found in her handbag as a remnant of last year's grandmother-mandated Christmas Mass she lets out a breath she didn't know she'd been holding. He smiles before turning back to the service.

'Why'd you ask me to come with you?' She asks on the train back to the tower.

'My mother, Bucky's family, and I used to go to that church before I joined the Army. I just needed to not go on my own, you know? Because I figured if I went alone then it would just be like I was trying to recreate the past, but with someone else there it wouldn't be so weird. I know it must be awfully presumptuous of me to ask you to come and I won't be offended at all if you never want to do it again. You're just the only person I know who might be able to come since Natasha's dragged Bruce to church on the Upper East Side and I would rather go alone then ask Stark, Barton, or Darcy.'

Maria smiles slightly and rests her head on his shoulder for the rest of the train ride.


	9. 85th and Riverside, Manhattan, New York

For a second there it's going great by Maria's relationship standards. She's still getting a fluttery feeling inside her when she sees him and there is a projected first date on the horizon.

Steve Rogers gets his first date.

Maria Hill doesn't get hers.

The girl's name is _Beth_, a perfectly nice girl and a perfectly nice name. Which makes Beth so much fucking harder to hate, because Beth hasn't done anything to Maria. She's not a bitch, she's not stupid, she's not rude, she's not noisy, she's not boastful. She's pretty and blonde and _normal_ and oh-so-fucking-_innocent_. She's fucking perfect for Steve, and Maria knows that they'll have a boatload of equally perfect blond, blue-eyed children and live in a nice picket-fenced house in Hoboken where they make pies and occasionally save the world.

_Fuck_ Steve for getting her hopes up.

_Fuck_ Beth and her utter perfection and her fucking 'feminine wiles'.

_Fuck_ Fury for introducing them.

_Fuck_ Coulson for dying and giving her his job.

_Fuck_ Loki for making the Avengers come together in the first place.

_Fuck_ Tony Stark for being the most miserable bastard ever but still getting to be happy.

_Fuck_ Romanoff for getting her fairy-tale ending.

_Fuck_ Maria herself for being so goddamn gullible.

These feelings last for the whole time that she knows Steve and Beth are together (eight months, six weeks, four days, ten hours, twenty-three minutes, ten seconds). They should be together longer. They should have been together for the rest of her life. When Maria's not slowly working himself to death she lies on her mattress listening to Leonard Cohen and drinking cheap red wine straight out of the bottle.

And then they're not together anymore and Maria feels sick for all her months of self-hatred and semi-alchoholism.

Steve and Beth were out on a date and HYDRA had their best sniper in the apartment complex across the street, four blocks down. It was an impossible shot, one that even Clint would have trouble making on the best of days, and that day there was a strong easterly wind. It was a one in a billion shot. Nobody's sure if they made the shot or not. It hit Beth strength between the eyes in a spot where, mere nanoseconds ago, Steve's shoulder had been. When Maria finally gets there Beth's body is being carted away to the SHIELD morgue and Steve is sitting in his chair with Beth's blood spattered across her face.

Maria's not sure what to do when she sees this man who she's always seen as an emotional rock and a steadfast soldier slowly falling to pieces in front of her eyes.

She wraps her arms hesitantly around his neck and strokes his hair and murmurs that its going to be alright.

She wishes she was telling the truth.


	10. Pravda, Brighton Beach, New York

Pravda is like a little golden coach hidden inside a Fabergé egg. Except that it's a bar not a scale replica of the Tsar's imperial coach and the outside is an inconspicuous doorway halfway down a vaguely sketchy alley.

Natasha introduced Maria to Pravda a few months ago, and Maria loves it, or at least loves it in the way that Tony loves fatherhood, enthusiastically yet apprehensive. Maria would also never be stupid enough to go there by herself, she's tolerated because she's a guest of Natalia Alianovna Romanova, a name which still carries weight in these last remaining outposts of _Materii Rossii._ She is about as welcome as any Italian-American Catholic Fed is welcome in what seems to be _le centre du monde_ for all the high-powered Eastern European immigrants and their sketchy business dealings.

Natasha sat at the bar drinking vodka and eating pickles with a chess grandmaster named Arkady, the bottle of vodka resting between them, laughing at some joke he made in Russian when Maria arrived. General Karla sat off to one side, staring covetously at Natasha, though Maria is sure it had nothing to do with the curvature of Natasha's legs and everything to do with the chemicals rushing through them. Maria felt a slim rod tap against her shin and she turned, a large man sat at a table drinking vodka, eating stroganoff, and and smoking a Cuban cigar.

'Send my regards to Nikolas.' He smiled.

'Are you giving my friend trouble Valentin Dmitrovich?' Natasha yelled across the room, her tone was joking, yet there was a menacing undertone in her voice.

'I was just asking your lovely friend to pass on my regards to a mutual acquaintance.' He saluted them with the tip of his cane and motioned for Maria to pass.

'Mariska, it feels like I haven't seen you all week, between you and the complete and utter shitstorm that was Paraguay, me and Rome.' Natasha signalled the bartender to bring another glass and the jar of pickles.

'Now, what happened with the Captain?' Maria could tell from the expression Natasha had affixed to her face that Maria was either going to tell Maria or risk losing a couple of fingernails.

'I don't know.' Natasha has a finely tuned Bullshit-O-Meter of a quality that even the likes of Phil Coulson, Pepper Potts, and Nick Fury find themselves covetous. So really, Maria should know better.

'_Fignya_. Don't try to bullshit a bullshitter Mariska. Especially one of such a high calibre as I. If nothing else it's somewhat insulting.'

'I don't know what happened. It was like we were really good and everything was fantastic, then suddenly he was going out with Beth. I have no fucking clue what happened. I don't even know where Beth came from, she was just suddenly there. And now, I suppose, she's not.'

'Right. You have ten seconds to finish up this little pity-party and pull yourself together so we can get your sex life back on track.'

'Fine.'

'You know, the first time that Darcy met Clint and he hit on her and she told him that women were best off when left to their own mechanical devices. He was bright red in the face, it was pretty amazing. And now they put rabbits to shame. Nevertheless, the sentiment still stands.'

'It's just that I thought everything was going really well and we even had a Not-Date when we went to the church he went to when he was little.'

'Mariska, here's the thing; Steve and Peggy never went out, or had sex, or really did anything that remotely construed a relationship. He carried her picture around in his compass and she kissed him right before he crashed into the ocean. From what I heard he was the most romantically ignorant person ever, and when they did "acknowledge their feelings" she was the one who took the lead. And, since you probably don't know this, Beth was the one to make the first move and ask him out, so it's quite likely that he didn't really expect that he would be expected to make the first move. That's just our theory.'

'_Our_?'

'Bruce, Darcy, Clint, Pepper, Tony, and I.' Natasha had a vaguely condescending without being malicious look on her face.

'Great. So my sex life is common knowledge among the Avengers _et al_.' Maria rested her head in her hands with a groan.

'Technically it's your lack of sex life that we're talking about. There is, unfortunatly, no sordid details for us to gleefully gossip about.' Natasha said with the irritating smugness of someone who is getting regular and excellent sex. Maria seethed.

'Well gee, that just makes me feel so much better. '

Natasha smirked.

'It's just,' Maria waved her hands abstractly, 'You know.'

'Yes, I do.'


	11. Somewhere in the American Midwest

'My butt is sore.' Maria groused as she adjusted her hold on Steve's waist. 'How is you butt not sore? These have to be the worst roads in all of America. And I'm obscenely hot. Why am I the only one suffering?'

While Maria was bedecked from neck to fingertip to toe in ballistic nylon and her head was covered in a full-face motorcycle helmet. Steve, in all his super-soldier glory, was only wearing khakis, a collared shirt, and his leather jacket, blissfully enjoying the breeze on his face while Maria died of heatstroke behind him.

A few weeks ago Steve had broached the topic of him going on a cross-country road trip, visiting all of the states and nobody was willing to deny him after Beth's someone (cough… Natasha… cough) had put the idea in Director Fury's head that Steve needed a nanny and that nanny should be Maria.

So here Maria was, bouncing along on poorly paved roads for ten hours a day, sleeping in sketchy motels, taking pictures of the world's largest beer can while introducing Steve Rogers to the country he protects.

They had played license plate ABC, they'd played the country game in six different ways, they'd played speed I Spy and they were only eight days in and if Maria hand to think of another place that started with 'A' she might scream. She was going to spend a month clutching the waist of a guy she'd been having Happy Family fantasies about and gotten really drunk and pathetic when he'd dated someone else even though they'd never been together before. Fuck it, it was time to rip the bandage off so maybe at some point in this whole fiasco Maria might get a couple one-night stands and they'd stop being so goddamned awkward together.

'Why'd you date Beth?' But Steve seemed to be obtusely ignoring her Or maybe he just can't hear her over the wind and muffling effect of the helmet. 'WHY'D YOU DATE BETH?!'

He wrenched his head away from her. _Oops, a little too close to the ear there Maria._

'Because she asked me.' There's almost an air of the wounded puppy-dog in his eyes.

'Why didn't you ask me?' And now she sounds like a plaintive child. Great.

'I didn't think you were interested.' Geez, looks like Natasha'a theory might not be so cracked after all.

'I was two steps short of getting a sky writer to ask you to go out with me.' She snorts as a pained look flits across Steve's face. 'I got really drunk and listened to Leonard Cohen on repeat. The last time I did that Eric Delahoy stood me up for my freshman Valentine's Day dance.'

Steve's shoulders tense up and he makes no reply, or if he does, not one Maria can hear.

'Can you say something? I feel like and idiot for telling you all this without you saying anything.'

'I think Eric Delahoy must be blind, deaf, and dumb to stand you up.'

'Yeah, well, it turns out the poor guy broke his collarbone walking down the highly dubious staircase of his mom's fifth floor walkup and just forgot to call me for three weeks, incapacitated as he was in a haze of pain and painkillers. I forgave him since he couldn't really do anything about it, but still…' Maria smiles ruefully, though Steve can't see it.

'Oh, well, I don't really have a good excuse, do I?'

'No, not really, no.'

'Well, sorry about that.'

'I'm feeling generous, so I'll forgive you.'

'Does this mean you're still hiring a sky writer?'

'Only if absolutely necessary. I am still living on a government paycheque after all, despite the kick-ass neoprene suit.'

'Well, I've never done this before, so I might completely mess it up, but, would you like to go to dinner with me?'

'Who else am I going to go to dinner with in the middle of nowhere?'

'Are you being difficult?'

'I am, actually. And I'd love to go on a dinner date with you. No skywriter included.'

'I'll keep the skywriter in mind, though, for the future.'

'Just as long as it doesn't say 'Surrender Dorothy'.'

'Noted.'

Maria's Happy Family fantasies came roaring back to the front of her mind. She hugged Steve a little bit tighter to stop herself from falling off of the bike. Dammit, but Steve was just too cute for his own good.

(When Steve proposes to Maria a year and a half later he's on a mission when they were supposed to be on a date, yet the skywriter, uninformed of the change, still writes 'Maria, will you marry me?' at exactly 10:30 in red smoke over Manhattan. Maria accepts over comms when Steve is busy battling and AIM minion.)


End file.
